Free Santiago Sol by Niki Turner Page A

more than one reason she was in Chile. She covered his hand with her own and squeezed his fingers.
    “I’m sure, Sebastian. Let’s go to church.”
     
     
     
     

8
     
    When they reached the door, Sebastian hung back, his heart thundering.
    Tansy surged ahead and knocked. A smiling young man in a dress shirt and trousers opened the door.
    “ Bienvenidos! Welcome!” He waved them inside.
    The building really was a warehouse, Sebastian realized as the usher directed them to a pair of unoccupied chairs. Tansy took the aisle seat, forcing him to wedge himself between her and an older woman.
    This particular section of the warehouse had been transformed into a church sanctuary, complete with an elevated platform for the worship team and the minister, multiple rows of folding chairs, and a modern video screen upon which weekly announcements were displayed. Hand-lettered banners hanging on the walls declared “ Jesús es el Señor ” and “ Gloria a Dios ” in festive colors.
    To Sebastian’s surprise, almost every seat was occupied. There were older women like his abuela— children who fidgeted, poked each other and giggled; young couples; businessmen in suits with their well-dressed wives; and a few individuals he would guess belonged to Santiago’s homeless population. It was a very eclectic group.
    Tansy leaned close. “This reminds me of the Statue of Liberty.”
    Sebastian blinked. “What?”
    She turned those lovely, long-lashed eyes to him. “You know, ‘give me your tired, your poor...’ The whole idea of everyone being welcomed and wanted and valued. It’s how the church should be, but it’s not always that way. It makes me glad to see it here, and I know it will please Eva. I can’t wait to tell her about it.”
    The worship team took their places on the platform and everyone stood. Music swelled around them and Sebastian closed his eyes, feeling out of place and uncomfortable. And then he found himself listening to the song, to the lyrics.
    The words washed over him. Words of love, peace, and comfort. He knew them, though he couldn’t have explained how or why. And he knew they were true. Peace would never be found anywhere outside of Christ. Not in business success. Not in family honor. Not even in making his abuelo proud. Reminded of his humanity, his place in the universe as a child of God, Sebastian lifted his embittered heart to his Savior in worship for the first time in a long time, and felt tears burn the back of his eyelids as peace washed through him like a gentle rain.
    When the song changed, his hands dropped and he opened his eyes, self-conscious, but the peace remained.
    Tansy stood beside him, her hands raised, her eyes closed. Though she didn’t know the Spanish words, she sang along in English, oblivious to anything around her except the atmosphere of worship.
    Sebastian felt something break loose in his chest, and he knew. This was the woman he’d been waiting for. This was the woman with whom he wanted to spend his life. He shook his head, but the awareness just settled deeper.
    She was his.
    When the music ended and they took their seats again, the sense of...rightness...stayed with him through the announcements, offerings, and all the usual church business—even the pastor’s message about love and forgiveness and God’s divine plan.
    At the end of the service, the two people Sebastian assumed were homeless went forward for prayer. When they turned to face the congregation, their faces were shining. Sebastian joined in the applause.
    When the service concluded, Sebastian remained in his seat, immobile.
    “Are you ready?” Tansy asked him, touching his arm.
    “I’d like to speak with the pastor,” he replied.
    “I’m sure that would be all right.”
    They waited until the minister had said goodbye to most of the congregation, leaving the helpers and volunteers in the room. When the pastor spotted them, he approached.
    “Can I help you with something?”
    “Is there